Word: 65th
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...East 65th St., Manhattan, where painters were freshening the iron fence and balconies of Franklin Roosevelt's town house,* a sign was last week hung out reading "For Rent, Alfred E. Schermerhorn, Inc." An enterprising reporter, posing as a possible tenant, had the real estate agent take him through the building's 14 rooms and five baths, was told that the rental asked was $6,000 a year, that the oil burning furnace in the basement would not cost more than $800 a year to operate, that the electricity bill would not run over $25 a month, that...
...property is owned by his mother whose own town house, No. 47 East 65th St., adjoins. A sliding mirror in the President's upstairs living room connects the two houses...
...Lucienne Boyer went straight on to another opening, even more elegant and gala, The Rainbow Room, on the 65th floor of Rockefeller Center's RCA Building. First client to arrive was John D. Rockefeller Jr. who supplied some of the cash for The Rainbow Room's glass walls, color organ and two-speed reversible, revolving dance floor. At a table in an alcove farthest from the dance floor, Mr. & Mrs. Rockefeller and their guests ? Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Rockefeller, Mr. & Mrs. John D. Rockefeller III?were half way through the club's $15 dinner before the other frolickers started...
...France with a manager, a pianist, a violinist, three maids, 23 trunks, 50 pieces of hand luggage, a 12th Century Buddha and a $6,000-per-week contract. Awaiting her were a Sherry-Netherland penthouse, a show called Continental Varieties, a brand new night club on the 65th floor of the R. C. A. building, Rockefeller Center. Producers Arch Selwyn and Harold B. Franklin congratulated themselves when, a week before the Varieties opened, every $8.80 seat in the house had been sold. Rockefeller Center was proud of its Rainbow Room, with its high glass walls overlooking the city, its mirrored...
...literary gods, but once he was more modern than he is today. Now distinctly a member of the old guard, thrice crowned with the perishable bays of the Pulitzer Prize (1922, 1925, 1927). Robinson is by long odds the most respected living U. S. poet. In his 65th year this New England Browning still turns out a lengthy blank-verse narrative that seems sometimes garrulous but never silly; though his poetic fire is down to a low blue flame, it is not yet extinguished. Fed by no fiercely burning faith but well banked with the coke of agnostic irony...