Word: bohemianized
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...wartime Uncle Sam. His full-lipped Flagg Girls looked out from the pages of every big-circulation magazine. He earned $75.000 a year from Flagg Girls and celebrity portraits, spent it freely in hard-drinking high life. Besides being the country's most famous illustrator and most conspicuous bohemian. he was its gruffest voicer of strong opinions. "I know why there are so many pretty gals in New York," he once said, "all the ugly ones are in college." He dismissed Picasso's work as "kin to the nasty scrawls chalked on alley walls by underprivileged Mongolian monster...
...still untitled and likely to remain so. and it is doubtful that his informal tastes are suited to the horsy, dog-loving ceremonial round of royal family life. Nor does it seem any more possible for Princess Margaret to be transformed into a citizen of Tony's former bohemian world. Meg has only half a dozen formal dates to fill on her calendar, and it is expected that her pretty cousin, Princess Alexandra, will take on more and more of the royal duties that Margaret used to perform...
...fight in a saloon, fire a gun; if it is fire engines you are after, ring a fire bell. Ferde's 1933 Tabloid Suite, inspired by the New York Daily Mirror, was even scored for typewriters. The San Francisco Suite consisted of four descriptive movements-"Gold Rush," "Bohemian Nights," "Mauve Decade" and "1906-1960"-all of them as cliché-ridden as any Mirror Sunday feature. But the composition was stuffed with enough acoustical effects to keep any Grofé fan awake and happy: a clanging cable-car bell, a foghorn, Chinese gongs and temple blocks, the clippity-clop...
...major shock of the week was the announcement that Jeremy Fry, 35, a longtime bohemian friend of Tony Armstrong-Jones, had withdrawn as best man at the royal wedding next month. The stated reason : a recurrence of jaundice. When clamorous newsmen asked if Fry were stepping down for any reason apart from his health, a royal spokesman replied: "No comment." The sensational Sunday newspaper, The People, breathlessly revealed that in 1952 Fry had been arrested in Hyde Park, fined ?2 after pleading "guilty to a minor offense," and stated in court, "I'm afraid I was rather drunk...
...position, too vague for trade, and too feeble to shift cement bags." He has worked variously and unvigorously as a cabbage rooter, road mender, ice cream hawker, oil company minor-domo and smuggler. As the book opens, he lives in a derelict farmhouse in Gloucestershire, but he is a bohemian, not a beatnik. The distinction lies in the fact that he makes his bed once a week, writes coherent English, and laughs at himself now and then...