Word: boye
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Whether the Charlie Ross referred to was the famed kidnapped Philadelphia boy or a mutual acquaintance who could write imaginative reports, D. N. B. did not venture to explain. Bill Bullitt flatly denied that such a conversation had ever taken place. He admitted talking to Biddle that day over a bad connection, to get "specific and complete statements" about German bombardments in Poland, and that was all there was to it, except for Nazi "inventions...
...went out in the last war to abolish all former diplomatic games of seven-toed pete with deuces wild. . . . With smiles and smirks our associates accepted our childish enthusiasms-while they took our money and our lives. . . . We were told we were going to get international decency. Boy, look at the damn thing...
Here I am a Stranger (20th Century-Fox). Blubber-lipped David Paulding (Richard Greene) is a clean, upstanding, well-dressed boy with a veddy, veddy English accent and a brace of dimples he can switch on and off like headlights. His limpid life is complicated by a two-father complex. Father No. 1 (and sire) is Duke (pronounced Dook) Allen (Richard Dix), Stafford 1917, football, track, a brilliant writer who 20 years later is still winding up Chapter Four of his first novel. Father No. 2 is a famous lawyer (George Zucco) who married David's mother (Gladys George...
...succeed Great Northern's late William P. Kenney, directors picked big, brusque, likable Frank James Gavin (58), who joined the road as an office-boy 42 years ago, worked his way up through station agent, division supt., etc., became a rock-ribbed "24-hour railroad man." A brief man (he answers telegraphed queries with a snappy "Yes" or "No"), he has no hobbies, no outside interests but his work. But Frank Gavin, who was G. N.'s executive V. P., knows all about his road from operations to finance. Wise to what is going...
...snork is Uncle Don. When he was a boy (Howard Rice, son of a horseshoe nail salesman), his pals in St. Joseph, Mich, called him "Punk." Now he is a fattish, fiftyish, rheumy-eyed, flashy-dressing showman. As a kid, he learned enough piano chords by ear to get some local esteem as a musician. Because he found he could play the piano standing on his head, he became Don Carney, the Trick Pianist of vaudeville. He got into radio 14 years ago. One day, on a half-hour's notice, he was assigned to do a children...