Monday, May. 09, 1955

DearTIME-Reader:

As dusk deepened on a Korean hill one evening in 1952, PETER BRAESTRUP, 2nd lieutenant, U.S.M.C.R., by way of Parris Island and Quantico out of Yale ('51), ducked into a bunker for a quick mug of coffee. During 5 1/2 months in Korea, Lieut. Braestrup had moved mostly on the edges of war. All at once, in the bunker, he heard the chatter of gunfire and the shouts of his 30 marines on the hill. Chinese Reds were attacking in company strength. He ran out, shouting: "Pour it on, marines!"

Five steps later, he ran headlong into a Chinese grenade. Fragments tore into him; one passed through the armhole of his armored vest into his lung. Lieut. Braestrup fell, critically wounded and out of the war.

Recently, Contributing Editor Braestrup previewed a French semi-documentary film, Heartbreak Ridge (see CINEMA). It tells the story of another 2nd lieutenant in the same war. Braestrup's review is, to me, one that could have been written only by someone who had been there.

publish--to bring before the public

--Webster

FOR nearly ten years, TIME PRESIDENT ROY LARSEN and I have been hosts at a party for members of the American Newspaper Publishers Association attending the annual A.N.P.A. meeting in New York (see Publishers v. Trustbusters in PRESS). Among 300 eminent guests last week was Hollywood Columnist HEDDA HOPPER. With her came MARILYN MONROE, who makes a thriving business of publishing Miss Monroe. Her special A.N.P.A. edition was an obvious hit. Chatting with her, publishers beamed. Miss Monroe, as she moved among TIME'S guests, paused here and there before a statesman of the press to bestow her own version of the Pulitzer Prize: a big, moist-lip smile under half-closed eyes.

AFTER the party I flew to Florida for the TIME advertising salesmen's convention. Sales reports we heard there reflected a wide divergence of attitudes towards advertising throughout the world. In such countries as the U.S., Canada, Britain and Sweden, advertising is accepted as a medium of communication as essential as the telephone. But in some other parts of the world, the concept of advertising is still about as primitive as smoke signaling.

Even some of the larger Japanese firms, said YASUO KITAOKO of our Tokyo office, list advertising expenditures in their budgets under charity-- as do nations. That was a shocker. Kitaoko, who finished training to be a kamikaze pilot at 16, just as World War II ended, explained that fly-by-night publishers, blackjacking businessmen into space-buying with threats of bad publicity, have tended to make advertising-selling a not-so-ethical profession in his country. But TIME, with its worldwide prestige, solid circulation and sound statistics, is helping to restore the profession to respectability, Kitaoko said, with a fine Oriental grin.

Cordially yours,

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