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"Countess Jo-Jo", a 50 or more year old Boston Irish lady named Mrs. Mulcahy, and her party. The Countess was a miracle of pep for all her gray hair and sagging chin. I was amazed at her. As always at the Del Rio, it was quite an evening, to the tunes of thuglike Richard Himber, and we got home very late. I learned also that Marshall, supposedly at Schenectady sitting importantly on his posterior, has been doing a real job of getting production. He says he has probably broken all the rules of WPB in doing it, but "they wanted production and they're getting production." His description of some of his bulldozing, wheedling, nagging, threatening, etc. to get material out of vendors was really good; and I can well believe that Marshall, with his beautiful deep voice and marvellous telephone manner, could do wonders over the wires.

Washington, D.C.
Wednesday, Dec. 16, '42.

I didn't have a call for this morning, arose about 8:15AM, had breakfast, and then returned to my room to [[underlined]] write my letter of resignation [[/underlined]] to Andrew. I hoped to get in to see him today to hand it to him personally but he was tied up all day so I [[underlined]] finally sent it in to him. [[/underlined]] 

My efficiency today was decidedly sub-normal. Art helped me get off the Sorocabana releases. I dictated a blast at [[underlined]] [[Kauszler?]] for Andrew [[/underlined]] to sign demanding adequate priority ratings for the first quarter (they now are AA2X). It spared no punches and George Cowell, also getting pretty disgusted, put in a final paragraph that ended with the statement that the present policy is simply "gross paper shuffling," one of Whitey's

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