Word: breakfast
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...least, against Smathers, who seems to have everything going for him. In Washington, Smathers is secretary to the Senate Democratic Conference, the No. 3 man among Senate Democrats after Majority Leader Mike Mansfield and Whip Hubert Humphrey. This entitles him to have breakfast at the White House every Tuesday morning with his fellow leaders and an old friend named John Kennedy. As young men in the House, Smathers and Kennedy occupied adjoining offices, often partied together. When Kennedy got married, Smathers ushered at the wedding...
...major league baseball season opened in California last week-and so did Democrat Edmund ("Pat") Brown's campaign for re-election as Governor. At a breakfast rally in San Francisco's Civic Center Auditorium, Brown wound up and let fly with the political season's longest metaphor. Cried he of Republican Opponent Richard Nixon. "You've seen the scouting reports on the opposition. You know you can look for a lot of low, inside curves and some hot ones down the foul line. And it is a matter of record that their star pitcher...
...With a breakfast-time disquisition on "Stresses Within the Communist Bloc," Washington's WTTG TV last week began to broadcast a series of uncompromisingly erudite lectures on international affairs by professors of New York's Columbia University.* Behind this brainstretching venture, which drew a rare rave from FCC Chairman Newton Minow, stood an unlikely figure: Investment Banker Armand Grover Erpf, 64. In 26 years as a partner in Manhattan's prestigious Carl M. Loeb. Rhoades & Co.. elfinlike Armand Erpf has displayed an uncanny nose for investment opportunities that has led fellow financiers to label...
...worldsmanship is so explicit that his fans' fantasies have a rich and varied diet to feed on. His cigarettes, with their three distinctive gold rings (a considerable security risk), are blended for him of a Balkan tobacco mixture by Morlands of Grosvenor Street. For breakfast: "The single egg in the dark blue egg cup with a gold ring round the top was boiled for three and a third minutes . . . Then there were two slices of wholewheat toast, a large pat of deep yellow Jersey butter and three squat glass jars containing Tiptree 'Little Scarlet' strawberry jam; Cooper...
...Wake up!" squeals his darling daughter, knocking on his head with her knuckles-hard. "Ah, c'mon!" Mum squalls at the baby. "Yer not tryin'." Dad weaves toward the bathroom, battles an ancient geyser for five minutes, achieves a pathetic dribble of tepid water, starts to shave. "Breakfast!" Dad slumps groggily over his coffee. "Now don't be late, dear." Dad rises wearily, kisses his daughter goodbye. She draws back as if from a leper. "You've got bad breath!" Is it any wonder that Dad, a librarian somewhere in Wales, goes barmy in the back...