Word: chauffeur
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...question of just how basic Soldier Schine's basic training had been. Charges filled the air that Schine had goldbricked his way through his rookie days. Fellow draftees were quoted as saying that Recruit Schine got a pass every weekend (and left the post spectacularly in a chauffeur-driven Cadillac), skipped all but one stint at guard duty, goofed off on target practice and kept hinting darkly that he was really only hanging around to check morale. Snooping on his own, Columnist Drew Pearson had reported that Schine's old junketeering gumshoe pal, McCarthy Aide Roy Cohn, called...
...deputies in a huge, brassbound armchair, and acts like the umpire at a political tennis match. Constitutionally, he ranks second only to the President of the Republic. Financially, his job is a choice plum: $15,000 a year, a black, six-cylinder Citroën and a chauffeur, a big apartment in the Palais Bourbon with Louis XV furniture, Sevres china, gold-plated silverware, even free gas and electricity...
...established entertainment choices along Shubert Alley is Samuel Taylor's "Sabrina Fair." Margaret Sullavan has a chance to skitter about the stage while Joseph cotten scutters after her. the problem, something about a chauffeur's daughter with Parisian ideas, is amusingly worked out at the National...
Sabrina Fair (by Samuel Taylor) is a passable comedy of manners much enhanced by a polished production. Treating of the Long Island rich, it is also romantic comedy about a young lady with three suitors. The young lady (Margaret Sullavan) is a chauffeur's daughter, brought up among two of her swains, and now back home, chic and socially hep, after working five years in Paris. Which man Sabrina wants is clear enough, but there is a family problem about his marrying beneath him, and a personal problem, since he does not want to marry...
...serving 14½ months of his 18-month sentence for contempt of Congress. Although Costello got time cut off his stretch for good behavior, he was no sooner out of the prison gate than he was in trouble again. Pursued by a carload of persistent newsmen, he ordered his chauffeur to step on the gas. sent his black Cadillac hurtling along the 45 miles to Detroit at 80 m.p.h. (Michigan speed limit: "Reasonable and proper"). Twice overtaken by the reporters, Frank croaked peevishly: "Will you fellows please quit chasing me? Do you want to kill me dodging these cars?" Later...