Word: beds
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Before starting for Washington to confer with President Hoover on War Debts, President-elect Roosevelt spent a quietly busy week which, for him, began in his big, high-backed mahogany bed in the Albany Executive Mansion. Recovering from a mild attack of influenza, he wore a blue silk dressing gown over a white sweater and pajamas when a dozen newsmen trooped into his high-ceiled bedroom for an interview. His bed was littered with letters and telegrams. On a table stood a glass of milk...
...long distance call got Mrs. Roosevelt out of bed. After borrowing $10 from the Secret Service man on duty at the Executive Mansion, she caught the 3:18 train south. She arrived in Manhattan at 6:30. one hour after the birth of her fourth grandchild,* an 8-lb. son to Mr. & Mrs. Elliott Roosevelt, at Harbor Sanitarium...
...remote executive with time and patience only for exalted matters, he has been very much a part of The Yard. Every Sunday morning for many years he has dedicated the hour before breakfast to trimming the shrubs of his lawn and is visible to gay youths returning to bed from the bright reaches of Tremont Street, clippers in hand and in the company of his inevitable spaniel, pruning the barberry hedge along Quincy Street. Top-hatted and tall-coated, he once deserted a meeting of the overseers of the university to assist workmen at an excavation back of Matthews Hall...
...fortunate in its sets, by Hans Dreier. Furniture manufacturers would do well to examine closely a collection of clocks which mark, with morbidly graceful hands and pleasant tinkles, a space of several hours in which Miss Francis and Mr. Marshall are up to no good. Also, Miss Francis' bed, whose contours are inviting but polite...
...Vagabond loves not a cold ride through tortuous traffic, even though he may find a goal in a new haven. No more is he thrilled by the prospect of a makeshift bed in the room of one to him had stranger. Even more reluctantly does he embrace the task of wresting precious tickets from the hands of those whose God-given work it would seem to be to keep them hidden in the filling cases on Harvard Street. Then there is the bitter disappointment when he reaches for the flagon, and finds only the flask...