Word: flooringly
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Defense Rests. In Port Moresby, New Guinea, Supreme Court officials noticed that Defendant Bia Umeme was missing, found him fast asleep on the floor of the prisoner's dock...
...heaths, skirting the cottage of Poet Robert Burns, the President drove to battlemented Culzean (pronounced Cul-lane) Castle high on its cliff above the Firth of Clyde. Three months after the war, the Scottish people presented to the President a nine-room apartment on the castle's top floor. Visiting the place in 1951, Mamie Eisenhower had said: "It's like a fairy tale-the kind we read about in Grimm's story book." Now, greeted by the Marquess of Ailsa and the Earl of Weymss and March, the President rolled into Culzean to rest...
...high noon on voting day, Halleck went on the House floor pretty sure that he was licked, but still full of fight. He watched closely as Minnesota's Walter Judd tallied each vote. As the clerk started back through the list to check those who had not answered the first call, Halleck's breaks came with a rush. Two of his Ike-backing votes, landed by overdue planes, walked into the House. The three-man G.O.P. delegation from Kansas swung over to Ike. Another Congressman muttered, "I'm not chicken," swung too. When the roll call ended...
...cost more sweat and legislative pain than any other act since Taft-Hartley. Jack Kennedy's political prestige was committed to the relatively mild Kennedy bill (even though it had been beefed up in a floor fight led by Arkansas' John McClellan), and the Kennedy bill passed the Senate 90-1. President Eisenhower's power and prestige were committed to the sterner bill sponsored by Georgia Democrat Phil Landrum and Michigan Republican Robert Griffin which he had bulled through the House (229-201) with his effective television appeal (TIME, Aug. 17). Few old hands on Capitol Hill...
...jukebox blared the beatniks' Three Bs: Bach, Bartok and "Bird" (Cool Saxophonist Charlie Parker). Bongo drums pounded out broken rhythms from early afternoon to early morning. Folk singers plunked guitars. Far-out paintings dripped from the walls. Ancient, rump-ruptured couches, rescued from the city dump, decorated the floor, and in the center of the room stood an old claw-legged bathtub that could accommodate a couple of good friends. On some evenings, Beatnik Author Lawrence Lipton, whose book, The Holy Barbarians, heralds "Venice West" as the new home of beatdom, read his cool poetry against a jazz background...