Word: berets
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...mark. But Curry did have the boldness to conceive a Cineramic view of the land he loved. At the height of his fame, he called Wisconsin Landscape "my greatest." Grant Wood, like Benton, sowed some Midwestern oats in Paris. There he sported shocking pink whiskers and a Basque beret, painted hazy, impressionistic canvases. Back home in his native Iowa, he mainly taught art for a living. He shaved his round face smooth, and assumed an exterior as mild as a cup of Ovaltine...
Working in Silence. On the big day of the show - the 20th anniversary of the Falange's founding-el Caudillo togged himself in the traditional black coat and snug red beret, and trod into the jam-packed stadium. The crowd exploded in a rhythmic roar: FRAN Co FRAN Co FRAN Co FRAN Co! From a lofty dais, Franco hailed the party: "There is no substitute for the Falange! Only by the continued impetus of the Falange can we guarantee the future of Spain." He candidly explained why the Falangists had been kept under wraps since...
Reuter's long-memoried Socialists elected him mayor. His slouching figure, encased in flapping, light raincoat and surmounted by a cheeky black beret, soon became a familiar sight in West Berlin. Poking in the ruins with his thick, brown cane, strolling through the Tiergarten, where he would sometimes help the Haus-frauen gather sticks for their fires, Ernst Reuter became a man whom the people loved. They called him Herr Berlin...
Last week in Berlin there were candles for Ernst Reuter on both sides of the Brandenburger Tor. His body lay on a catafalque in front of his beloved Rat-haus. The coffin was draped in the Berlin flag and surmounted by his black beret. All one day and all that night, tens of thousands of Berliners filed past. Among them were many East Berliners, clutching their free food parcels. "He was our Reuter too," said one East zone woman. Her husband could only mutter: "What will...
...Feet Down. On a rough and rainy night last week, this odd craft was towed to a point 18 miles south of the island of Ponza where the Tyrrhenian Trench is 10,000 ft. deep. Just after the cheerless dawn, old Professor Piccard, a black Basque beret over his white hair, boarded the Trieste from an Italian navy corvette and climbed down a tube leading to the pressure sphere. His son, Jacques, 30, was already on board, crammed among oxygen bottles, apparatus and 102 instruments, including a movie camera. When the professor closed a massive door, the Trieste was ready...