Free The Irregulars by Jennet Conant

visit merited a gushing mention in Hedda Hopper’s column. “He was terribly pleased with the book’s success,” recalled Antoinette. “He got rather a big head about it, and was more arrogant than ever.”
    Dahl was also riding high on reports that he was working on a full-length motion picture inspired by the writings and life philosophy of Henry Wallace. The film project was conceived of by Gabriel Pascal, an English producer famous for his brilliant screen adaptations of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion and Major Barbara , after a chance meeting with Wallace and Dahl at Marsh’s R Street house. Pascal was there with his friend and partner, Erich Maria Remarque, the author of All Quiet on the Western Front , one of the best pieces of reportage about the First World War. Remarque had made so much money from the book’s publication that he was free to do anything he wanted, but the fame had apparently been too much for him, and he had retreated to southern France. After a long period of inactivity, Remarque had teamed up with Pascal to make an allegorical movie about the fight between “the children of light and darkness through the ages.” Wallace was very interested in their notion of illustrating the principle of liberty and spent many hours in deep discussion with the pair of filmmakers. By midnight, they were so simpatico, that they began laying plans to collaborate on the film together. They spent a long weekend at Marsh’s sprawling Virginia farm hammering out the details, and Dahl, with Lord Halifax’s approval, was assigned the task of coming up with a rough first treatment of the script.
    When the picture deal was announced in the press, Pascal explained that the ambitious project would tackle “the problems facing all humanity in the reconstruction of the post-war world” and would “carry an inspirational message to all people from an American angle.” Describing Flight Lieutenant Dahl as “a great new writing talent,” Pascal told reporters that the pilot-author would be handing over his draft to “two or three prominent American authors,” so that the final script would bear several names. While he had given no thought to casting the central roles, he revealed that hundreds of children and youths would figure in the drama.
    Marsh felt convinced that Dahl and the filmmakers were perfectly matched to their complex and provocative subject. To be sure, the cerebral vice president, an Iowa-born agronomist who had done pioneering work in developing new strains of corn and strawberries, was a singular character in American politics. A selfless and zealous reformer, he had overseen revolutionary change in the country’s farm policy as secretary of agriculture, constructed a huge new bureaucracy to administer its provisions, and spouted extremely liberal, unorthodox ideas about the economy, eliminating poverty, and how to best serve the public interest. A devout Episcopalian, Wallace was also usually spiritual for a politician, and his asceticism and morality set him apart from the more urbane, secular types in Washington. He was known as a prophet who wore many hats: he lectured on science, led seminars on religion, and authored pamphlets and books on everything from world trade to economic social justice. His popularity with western farmers, along with his outspoken attacks on Nazism and the dangers of a German victory, recommended him to Roosevelt, who selected him to be his vice president in 1940. Wallace was a controversial choice at the time, and the intervening years had done nothing to endear him to conservatives in Congress.
    The news that the vice president’s global philosophy was going to reach the big screen made for splashy headlines in Washington and London. The tall, perpetually disheveled Wallace was beloved by many as the people’s candidate and a great liberal warrior. An idealist who saw himself as an agent of change, he frequently gave speeches outlining his ideas for