Word: drabs
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Just before 8:30 one morning last week, an olive drab Cadillac rolled down the ramp to the underground parking lot of the Pentagon Building. Its passenger, cap set ever so slightly at a rake, stepped out, pulled down his trim, suntan Eisenhower jacket and strode toward the elevator. Pentagon workers did not need to glance at the five-star circlets on his shoulder straps to know who he was. They gave him "good morning." General of the Army Dwight D. Eisenhower grinned his acknowledgments, got into the elevator, was soon in his third-floor office and busy...
Madrid is an accurate index to the expansive mood of Spain's rich & mighty who follow the traditional social season-Seville in April, Madrid in May and June, San Sebastian in July and August (then back to the Madrid black market for the drab winter months). Now they jam the Palace and Chicote bars, their ranks reinforced by distinguished foreign refugees such as the Petacci family of Mussolini's late mistress, Clara...
Three thousand desert dervishes in flowing abbayas streamed into town on camels, horses and rickety provincial trains. Ten thousand Sudanese jammed the big dusty square before the stuccoed, white-domed tomb, brightening the drab town with pink, blue, yellow and green galabias (skirted garments). For the first time since the Mahdi's victory over Gordon, big black, green and red banners, bearing the silver crescent, and dervish spear, danced overhead. Inside the tomb enclosure, women rocked and swayed over big rawhide drums, wailing mournful tunes in high-pitched tones...
...visiting Italians was buxom, blonde Ebe Stignani, whom many European critics consider the greatest mezzo-soprano of the day. She was superb in Il Trovatore, and she even lifted a drab production of La Favorita. After Favorita one critic said that Stignani could make Three Blind Mice sound like celestial music...
...Vienna's most magnificent squares-the Heldenplatz (Square of Heroes), with its huge statues-is now the front yard of the Russian headquarters. Russian soldiers perch like drab birds on the base of Prinz Eugen's statue and little Russian boys in dark blue school uniforms fire slingshots at passersby. When Vienna's bluish-green dusk settles over the square and forms a backdrop for the lighted clock in the Rathaus tower, and the lilac smells especially sweet, a few moments of real peace descend. Then the Russians turn on their loudspeakers, which blare hit tunes...