Word: bedded
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Mink on the Bed. As a businesswoman, Hattie was as shrewd as she was stylish. She knew intuitively when to extend credit and when to collect bills (she once successfully sued the late Jimmy Walker for his wife's unpaid $12,059 balance). She often quite literally sold the clothes off her back to eager customers, but would never allow a woman to buy a dress that seemed unsuitable. Her surplus energy spilled into other businesses, all of them successful: hats, jewelry, antiques, perfumes-even chocolate candy. By last year Hattie Carnegie Inc. was doing a gross business...
Hattie Carnegie was a temperamental whirlwind, who loved the glittering world she lived in, doted on poker, slot machines and canasta. Her Fifth Avenue duplex was serenely elegant, from the gold-plated fixtures in her bathroom to the crepe-dechine sheets and mink coverlet on her bed. Lunching at the Pavilion, sweeping into the opera or arriving in Paris, Hattie was always a conversation-stopper. Her domestic life was sometimes hectic: after two brief and capricious marriages, she finally settled down with Major John Zanft, a childhood sweetheart from the East Side. "I've had three husbands," she often...
...program grows more urgent. The bill to grant such aid is dangerously near extinction. The immediate need for government aid to education should overbalance the desire for Congressional enforcement of the desegregation decision. Congressman Powell should withdraw his rider and allow the school bill to rise from its death bed...
About 11 p.m., Presidential Press Secretary Jim Hagerty caught the news at Thomasville, Ga. After a hurried conference with the President, he got correspondents out of bed for a special conference...
Jean Santeuil has no such stature. The Master is young, shy, afraid. As in Remembrance, Proust starts his novel with the hero's memories of having to go to bed as a boy-"the wretched candle must be put out and he lie there . . . abandoned . . . to the horrible, the shapeless suffering which, little by little, would grow as vast as solitude." But Proust, with youthful naivete, tried to protect his own thin skin and his mother's feelings by pretending that he was not writing autobiography. In an introduction to Jean Santeuil, he declared the book...