Word: call
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...unity by the "free and equal members of the Commonwealth." It was no accident that the adjective "British" vanished in transit. Lester ("Mike") Pearson, then Canada's External Affairs chief, recalls: "It was the British genius for evasion or compromise or common sense, whatever you wish to call it. Neither name satisfied everyone there, so both were used. It is now officially and in daily talk-at least in Canada-just 'the Commonwealth...
...announced her retirement from the stage; scarcely a year later she was back on the boards in The Ghost of Yankee Doodle. In 1940 her portrayal of the wise, warmhearted schoolmistress in The Corn Is Green became her greatest triumph. Audiences still cheered her on to her familiar curtain-call farewell: "That's all there is, there isn't any more...
...television was hell (although she had tried that, too). She remained an avid boxing and baseball fan ("I might have liked football, but I always had Saturday matinees and couldn't get to games"). And she kept up her reading; her home bulged with books. Friends came to call-veterans of the old days on the road and admirers from the new Hollywood-and no one ever heard a word of self-pity. One evening last week she woke for a moment from a short nap, grasped her nurse's hand and asked: "Is everybody happy? I want...
...first he felt no guilt. Later, he was deeply disturbed by the Pearl Harbor attack. "I wanted to do my part," he has explained. "I like this country, you know. Where else but in America could a man do all I've done? That's what I call freedom!" He left the monastery, joined the U.S. Navy, faked some college credentials and presented himself as a candidate for commission. When the security section started to investigate, Fred started to pack. He rejoined the Trappists, this time under the alias of Dr. Robert Linton French, a doctor of psychology...
Playwright Garson (Born Yesterday) Kanin (rhymes with rain in), a jazz saxophonist during his knockabout days, has managed this much. His novel is cast in the form of a onetime saxman's fond, moody reminiscence of the hard-blowing early '303. Jogged by a telephone call from one of his old partners, the narrator recalls the rise and fall of the combo they formed. The group begins as a trio, built around an astonishingly good young trumpeter. Then the saxman finds a pianist at a Harlem rent party, and the trio sounds even better as a quartet. Bookings...