Word: club
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Wednesday evening there was a dinner at the Harvard Club of Boston, with Professor Ramsey as toastmaster and Alan T. Waterman as speaker. Waterman spoke on Government Support of Research...
Emmett Gary Middlecoff, the golfing dentist from Memphis, sank his final putt for a 286 and began his deathwatch. In the pressroom at Medinah Country Club, 23 miles from Chicago, he dragged alternately at a cigarette and two double-Bourbons with Coke. His wife, Edith, was weeping with excitement, and a friend was prematurely pounding him on the back and burbling, "Boy, you're the champ . . . what a homecoming Memphis will put on for you." Reporters were dispassionately batting out new leads about the biggest golf tournament of them all-the U.S. Open...
That time it was the wrong club. He banged the ball eight feet beyond the hole, missed the putt coming back for a one-over-par four. When Sam got no better than par on the 18th, he gave a horde of newsmen one glum look: "It was that damned seventeenth that did it." Gary Middlecoff just grinned and paid off his $10 hedge-bet. With a $2,000 first prize and the prestige that goes with being U.S. Open golf champion, he could well afford it. Snead had tied for second place with North Carolinian Clayton Heafner...
...competing with 14,491 students across the U.S., Bonifacio won one of 117 college scholarships awarded by the Pepsi-Cola Co. Raymond I. Smith, manager of Reno's No. I gambling house, Harold's Club, chipped in for side expenses. Bonifacio went to the University of Nevada in Reno, prepared for law school by majoring in political science, became a good dancer, a fine chess player, the star of the university debating team, and a popular man-about-campus...
...George Orwell has spun his latest and finest work of fiction. In Animal Farm (TIME, Feb. 4, 1946,) Orwell parodied the Communist system in terms of barnyard satire; but in 1984 (which, along with John Gunther's Behind the Curtain -see below-is the Book-of-the-Month Club's selection for July), there is not a smile or a jest that does not add bitterness to Orwell's utterly depressing vision of what the world may be in 35 years' time...