When this novelty short was produced Walter Winchell was the most famous gossip columnist in America, back when that meant something. He was very well connected, not only in show business circles—as a former vaudevillian—but among celebrities in general: socialites, gangsters and G-Men alike. Like the title says, he knew everybody and everybody's racket, and was said to be perfectly willing to use his power to intimidate critics, rivals and enemies, of which he had many. The man was famous all right, and widely feared, but not beloved.
In this short Winchell stars as himself, and comes off as surprisingly benign and soft-spoken. (Maybe he wanted to prove he wasn't such a bad guy.) We find him hanging out in a nightclub, watching Paul Whiteman's Orchestra perform, restless and frustrated because he's unable to come up with material for his column. He has a brief exchange with a pair of elegantly dressed crooks, but there appears to be nothing unusual about that; it's all in a night's work. Winchell is on his way out of the place when he happens to meet an attractive, dewy-eyed young woman who tells him she admires him. She explains that in her hometown in Pennsylvania she writes a column patterned after his, and would love to get some pointers from him on how to pick up gossip concerning the rich and famous.
Thus our framework is set: Winchell takes the young lady back inside, and proceeds to point out various celebrities at their tables. We get quick glimpses of performers such as Ruth Etting and Arthur "The Street Singer" Tracy. Unfortunately neither one sings, but the Whiteman Orchestra does present a number by the Rhythm Boys. The group turns out to be a quartet, not the famous trio of Crosby, Barris & Rinker, but their number is enjoyable nonetheless.
Eventually, those gangsters we met earlier come back into the picture, and a controversy erupts concerning some missing money. This new complication builds to an unexpected twist at the fade-out, complete with an amusing punchline. It's surprising to find that Winchell had a sense of humor about his own image, in that he allowed himself to be portrayed as something of a sucker on this occasion. Is it possible he wasn't such a bad guy after all? This short would have you believe it.
In this short Winchell stars as himself, and comes off as surprisingly benign and soft-spoken. (Maybe he wanted to prove he wasn't such a bad guy.) We find him hanging out in a nightclub, watching Paul Whiteman's Orchestra perform, restless and frustrated because he's unable to come up with material for his column. He has a brief exchange with a pair of elegantly dressed crooks, but there appears to be nothing unusual about that; it's all in a night's work. Winchell is on his way out of the place when he happens to meet an attractive, dewy-eyed young woman who tells him she admires him. She explains that in her hometown in Pennsylvania she writes a column patterned after his, and would love to get some pointers from him on how to pick up gossip concerning the rich and famous.
Thus our framework is set: Winchell takes the young lady back inside, and proceeds to point out various celebrities at their tables. We get quick glimpses of performers such as Ruth Etting and Arthur "The Street Singer" Tracy. Unfortunately neither one sings, but the Whiteman Orchestra does present a number by the Rhythm Boys. The group turns out to be a quartet, not the famous trio of Crosby, Barris & Rinker, but their number is enjoyable nonetheless.
Eventually, those gangsters we met earlier come back into the picture, and a controversy erupts concerning some missing money. This new complication builds to an unexpected twist at the fade-out, complete with an amusing punchline. It's surprising to find that Winchell had a sense of humor about his own image, in that he allowed himself to be portrayed as something of a sucker on this occasion. Is it possible he wasn't such a bad guy after all? This short would have you believe it.
