Word: broadmoor
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Lucius Beebe, whose sartorial sharpness is the despair of other Manhattan fancy-dressers, got caught with his spats down in Colorado. Returning from a dusty tour of the Pike's Peak country, he started confidently toward a table in Colorado Springs' swank Broadmoor Hotel, was briskly stopped by the headwaiter. The management's firm attitude: Columnist Beebe, in riding clothes, was not suitably dressed for hotel dining...
Died. Professor Arthur Lloyd James, 58, linguistics authority, wife-killer; by his own hand (hanging) ; in his cell at Broadmoor Insane Asylum, England. Professor of phonetics at London University, longtime linguistics adviser to the British Broadcasting Corp., he was committed to the asylum in 1941 after murdering his concert violinist wife, Elsie Owen. He explained to police: "I could not cope with my work. Rather than expect her to face the bleak future, I decided she should...
Faint lines of strain appear nowadays in Nelson's normally chubby face. He lives alone in a small, furnished apartment. The big boss of U.S. industry goes to bed late, gets up around 7 a.m., breakfasts on a stool at the Broadmoor luncheonette, drives himself to work. In a day he sees from 20 to 30 callers, spends most of his time on the telephone. Once a week he lunches at the Raleigh Hotel with Leon Henderson and Milo Perkins, who runs the Economic Warfare Board. On those days, most of the power that drives the U.S. war effort...
...booked it himself. Arrested last week on a grand larceny charge, he admitted he had kept the policies secret from his company, kept some $8,000 in premiums to apply on a personal budget which included fat sums for social clubs, a new home on Seattle's swank Broadmoor Drive, frequent visits to nearby Longacres race track. After investigation, a Seattle prosecutor concluded that high-living Hal French had held out other policies too, pocketed perhaps as much...
Westward to get this news flew a covey of G. O. P. professionals: National Chairman Joe Martin, General Counsel Henry Prather Fletcher, Executive Director John D. M. Hamilton, several others. They found Wendell Willkie on the sixth floor of The Broadmoor hotel, having the time of his life. In shirt sleeves, crinkled trousers, bedroom slippers he worked, read, chatted amid a continual clatter of a dozen typists (two days behind on 600 incoming wires and letters per day), incessant callers, whanging telephones (The Broadmoor had to install a special Willkie switchboard). He left his spacious suite (three rooms...