Word: bowness
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...there is a certain element of the community that seems blatantly confident that Spring will come this year. We speak of the Radcliffe girl who cagerly scans the course catalogue, of the young men who plan to install a new freshly-cast bronzes bird atop a malformed Bow Street building, of the Square merchants lifting cord jackets form cardboard crates, and of a certain set of enthusiastic undergraduates who are sure they can talk a large mob into attending a so called all-college weekend...
...cold and gloomy in Groton, Conn, on the day the revolutionary Nautilus was launched. An old London fog enveloped New London, across the river, and the crowd of 15,000 that gathered around the bow of the world's first nuclear-powered submarine last week could not even see the stern. Nevertheless, the occasion was an auspicious and a proud one for the Navy. For Rear Admiral Ffyman Rickover (TIME, Jan. 11), it was the fulfillment of a dream, the end of a bitter, seven-year fight to introduce atomic power to the Navy...
...Technicolor. Mamie Eisenhower and her party walked out on the narrow christening platform. High overhead, perched on a girder, a yard worker sang out, "Be sure and hit it hard. Mrs. Eisenhower." Mamie did. The First Lady swung hard, smashed the chrome-sheathed bottle of champagne expertly against the bow and, as the big green and black boat began to move down the greased ways, she cried, "I christen thee Nautilus...
Leading ornithologists in this country and England reported that the only metallic Ibis known to exist has been held for several years by the Lampoon, but that the bird has been mysteriously missing from its accustomed perch atop the building on Bow St. for over half a year...
...immense warmth. In Manhattan's Carnegie Hall one afternoon last week, Stern and his fiddle were in top form. Playing Beethoven's Violin Concerto with the New York Philharmonic-Symphony under George Szell, Stern flaked warm, buttery tones off the violin with deep tenderness. As his bow drew the music from the strings, his body seemed to play its own accompaniment. Now he rose on his toes, now he shrugged with a phrase, now he twisted and bent forward. The hall's matinee audience had not often heard Beethoven tinged with anything so remarkably like schmaltz...