Word: doorsteps
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...through Congress this year. At most, Congress will approve some customs modifications, some tax incentives for investment abroad and a bare one-year extension of the Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act. Meanwhile, another important part of the freer-trade program has turned up on the President's own doorstep...
...house to house peddler will soon be no more than a memory. Like the lamplighter that faded away over a quarter of a century ago, the doorstep salesman is fast becoming the victim of a cruel technology. The unending onslaught of bigger and better devices for the Good Life has added to his wares such items as electric pencil sharpeners and hair-scratching devices. And on occasion, he may even sell a Modern Magic water closet, a miniature reducing machine or even a toothbrush with a plastic handle to hold the paste. Even now his display case bulges to twice...
...defeat's full impact landed on the world's doorstep with the morning newspapers. Editorial writers, who had been championing Stevens all week, denounced him. Cried the Richmond News Leader: "Mr. Stevens has . . . contributed to the delusion that McCarthy bestrides this nation like some Colossus, while petty men walk about under his huge legs." Said the New York Times's Pundit Arthur Krock: "Officials who get into a slugging match with McCarthy had best be sure in advance that they have loyal seconds in their corners, a Sunday punch in both fists and the stamina to stay...
...protect. His Senate seat is safe for five more years. He runs unhandicapped by responsibility and even by the heavier forms of ambition. What he thirsts for is what he got last week−a sense of personal power, personally wielded, a centripetal force that brings men to his doorstep and makes responsible officers of Government turn in their tracks before his onslaught. A President cannot do that. A Senator, McCarthy's kind of Senator...
Neighbor on the Doorstep. The Prime Minister, snorting with authority, arrived in Jovian grandeur; at one moment fuming over a misplaced cigar-cutter, the next good-humoredly caressing the Welch Fusiliers' goat mascot, ducking the television microphones. His body was stooped, his right leg dragged noticeably at every step. The man with him, Anthony Eden, suntanned and casual, shared little of Sir Winston's anticipation...