Word: dears
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Madrid, Congressman Murphy took his wife to a bullfight. Just as the matador was about to dedicate his fourth bull to Mrs. Murphy, the heavens opened and torrential rain fell, the bullfight was called off, and Mrs. Murphy's brand-new black Spanish mantilla was ruined. "Never mind, dear," said Congressman Murphy, "we will be back next year and we will see another from the United States ambassador's box." (The U.S., Britain and France have signified their disapproval of the Franco regime by withdrawing ambassadors from Madrid...
Antonio Pesenti, Communist economics expert, fired the first broadside in what the Italian press had dubbed the battle of the lira. Said Pesenti: "Unless the government revises its economic and financial policies radically and immediately, our dear country will plunge into the most frightful economic chaos . . ." Then Minister Pella played his trump cards. He announced 1) an immediate 10% reduction in the controlled price of bread, in answer to Communist alarm cries that as a result of the lira's slump prices would rise; and 2) the purchase in Washington of a little more than $100 million worth...
...Dear Friend and Gentle Hearts." With these last scribbled words of Stephen Foster* as a salutation, Fulton Oursler, onetime professional magician, veteran magazine editor and top writer of mysteries and a bestselling religious book (The Greatest Story Ever Told), last week began a syndicated column which big city newspapers were playing like an important story. The point of Oursler's first weekly column was that the Christian spirit has temporal rewards...
...dead man's high chair at the head of the servants' table, determined to carry on a way of life that actually has ceased to exist. He is now "Mr. Raunce," butler-king of the castle; as he surveys the long table-the older servants mourning the dear departed, the housemaids coy and giggly-life takes on a new shape. "And the wicked shall flourish even as a green bay tree," cries the old housekeeper as Mr. Raunce, the notebooks snug in his pocket, rises to carve the fragrant joint...
...Dear Gussie, we must fall flat on our faces five times. Have been." (That's too bad. I'll see you later...