Word: beaverbrook
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...unrepentant. "I would do it again tomorrow," said the former chief of British counterintelligence, who went over the wall in 1963. His purpose, he said, "was the fight for Communism" and the eradication of the many evils of capitalism, prominent among them "the expense-account lunch, British railways, the Beaverbrook press, the English Channel and the rising cost of living." By contrast, Philby added, "I am having a love affair with Moscow," marred only by one touch of staleness: "I am rather tired of caviar...
...gracious confines, the duke and duchess are automatically the guests of honor at any party they attend, as though he were still king. It is a circle of friends that dates back to the '20s, and each year its number is shrunk by death. Churchill and Lord Beaverbrook are gone, and so are Viscount Monckton, who negotiated the terms of Edward's abdication, and New York Central Board Chairman Robert Young, the invariable Florida host of the duke and duchess...
H.R.L. was no press lord in the tradition of Britain's Lord Beaverbrook or America's William Randolph Hearst. Power was not his passion-what burned in him was the search for truth and the desire to communicate it. And the way he went about it was to hire the best men he could and engage them in what amounted to a continuous dialogue. The degree of autonomy he gave his editors and the interplay of ideas he encouraged was a constant source of amazement to any outsider who encountered it. The late Aga Khan once offered Luce...
...disillusioned to remain on the Guardian, Muggeridge joined Lord Beaverbrook's Evening Standard, started turning out truculent copy attacking all kinds of ideologies. When World War II broke out, he was recruited for the intelligence service and sent as an undercover agent to Mozambique. "It was a hilarious experience," he recalls. "The Germans and we were bribing the same Portuguese and sleeping with the same girls." Though he was decorated for his activities, he lost all taste for espionage. "In war it is permissible," he says. "But in peacetime it's a sick trade, a surefire road...
Theirs was an odd marriage. While Harold was going everywhere-meeting here with Duff Cooper, there with Lord Beaverbrook, growling at Churchill for failing to muster sufficient opposition to Hitler-Vita remained secluded at Sissinghurst, the Tudor castle they had bought in Kent. She was a strangely masculine woman who wore breeches and gaiters in winter and linen slacks in summer, and who often said that her one enduring regret was that she was not born a boy. Still, Vita was enchantingly feminine where Harold was concerned. Her letters to him were filled with tenderness, as were...