CONFIDENTIAL FILE

Cheer Up; Desmond Is Home, Vaguely

Desmond Slattery has returned.

He’s back. Here in Hollywood.

And I’ll bet you didn’t even know he was gone.

Well, he was. Obviously. And the reason I happened to know he’s back is because he hustled straight for my office.

Right off, he told me, "I’ve got another exclusive for you, Coates."

It has been Desmond’s custom for the past half-dozen years to bring me one story a year. He’s trustworthy. He never leaks them out to Hedda Hopper or Louella.

And he’s consistent, too. In the past, his stories have always pertained to the activities of the same Desmond Slattery.

One year, it was his scheme to promote a safe and sane Fourth of July celebration by importing 10,000 fireflies from Texas to replace firecrackers.

Another year, it was about his organizing a "Cricket on Every Hearth" campaign after he had cornered the cricket market.

Always, Desmond made pretty exciting copy.

Except last year, when he tipped me off about his impending safari to Central America on what he described as "monkey business."

He promised me that he was going to round up dozens of midget Central American Monkeys, bring them to my office on his return and — in front of my very eyes — stuff them all into a big barrel.

"We’ll prove," he promised, "once and for all, just how much fun are a barrelful of monkeys."

Desmond did make the trip, but he came back without even one monkey.

Thus, my cautious greeting to the man when he showed up in my office again a few days ago.

"Slattery," I said coldly, "if this year’s story concerns you, leave."

Slattery shook his head slowly.

"This story," he answers, "concerns anteaters.

"And," he added, "ants."

Opening his briefcase, he extracted a pair of warn copies of True and Life magazines and spread them out before me. He showed me articles in each that warned of the fire-ant menace in the South.

"These little insects have already done 20 billion dollars in damage to agriculture," he said. "They’re natives of South America but somehow found their way to Alabama. Now they’ve spread through the South and are taking dead aim on the wheat fields of Kansas.

"Last year Congress allocated $2.5 million to invent an insecticide that’ll wipe those devils out," Slattery went on. "But there’s a patriotic private enterprise organization which plans to do the same thing — destroy the ants — at a fraction of the cost."

"What organization, Slattery?"

"This organization," he explained, "will go to South America next April and stage ‘The First Annual Pan-American Anteater Round-Up.’ It will return with anteaters who specialize in eating fire ants, and then rent the animals out to distressed farmers."

Slattery Reveals Identity

"This organization, Slattery?" I questioned, "Are you a member?"

"The man who heads this humanitarian group could well go down as one of modern America’s great heroes," he replied.

"Desmond," I pressed, "is that man you?"

Slattery leaned across my typewriter. "I’ll level with you, Coates," he whispered. "The whole dedicated, loyal outfit is me.

"But please — it’s the least I can do for this," he added softly. "So keep my name out of it."

And believe me, if I could figure out how to, I would.