Word: cleaning
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...smoothing away pits and scars on the quartered-oak parquet floor. By week's end the floor was ready for filling and waxing. This week a crew of maintenance men will move in to fix the floors, touch up the paneling in the State Dining Room, and dry-clean the soiled draperies and damask wall coverings in the Red, Green and Blue Rooms. By Sept. 30, the old mansion will be gleaming again...
...student. They wore sports shirts mostly, open at the neck with the sleeves rolled up, and they had come to Governors Island in New York Harbor from distant places-Denver and Detroit, Cottonwood, Ala., and Hanging Rock, Ohio -for a long-awaited Army reunion. Center of the reunion: a clean-looking young Regular Army sergeant who smiled winningly beneath a mop of golden hair...
...immutable as the Newsman's Law, which requires a press card in every hat), the story was, of course, a tearjerker: a talented jazz pianist discovers that he has tuberculosis but wants to die beating out his rhythms in cellar joints instead of getting cured in a nice, clean sanatorium. The novelty lay in the fact that Bob Crosby and his Bobcats not only played their instruments but also tried to be players. What was gained in verisimilitude was lost in the wooden-Indian school of acting: Crosby, in particular, delivered each line with a granite impassivity that...
...Clean Shirts. In 1940 Libby married Leonor Hickey, a young teacher of physical education who first heard about Libby from a friend's maid ("He's not terribly exciting," said the maid, "but he always wears clean shirts"), and still regards him as a goodhearted country boy who wears unsophisticated clothes. "He thinks he's a wonderful bridge player," confides Mrs. Libby, "but he's really lousy." Libby got a Guggenheim Fellowship and moved to Princeton, but a few months later the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and he offered his services to Nobel Prizewinner Harold Urey...
...Said the air commodore: "If you do it, don't make a bloody mess." Upshot was that Wintle was clapped into the Tower of London, where the admiring Scots Guards on duty plied him with whisky, cigars, and duck in aspic. But Wintle refused to let them clean his boots and uniform. "Much as I admire the Guards," he said coldly, "I do not feel they quite understand how to look after a cavalry officer...