Word: fowler
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Hearth & Home. In Manhattan, Mrs. Betty Jo Hill, suing for alimony, told the court that her husband "ignored me completely and devoted himself exclusively to watching the television programs." In Denver, police learned that Private Sam Fowler, hospitalized with a bullet wound in his hip, had criticized his wife's cooking; she took five shots at him with a .38 revolver. In Vancouver, B.C., Mrs. Constance McLeod got a divorce after testifying that her husband bit a piece out of their marriage certificate and threatened to make her eat the rest...
Philadelphia (Fowler) 6, Chicago...
...league baseball season opens today with games scheduled in Boston and Washington; tomorrow the rest of the clubs swing into action. At Braves Field this afternoon Johnny Sain will pitch against the Philadelphia Phil's Ken Heintzelman, while in Washington; the Philadelphia Athletics' Dick Fowler will face the Senators' Ray Scarborough...
Love In May. Beau James is the Walker story as told by Gene Fowler, whose biographies of other gifted scapegraces (John Barrymore in Good Night, Sweet Prince; Manhattan Lawyer William Fallon in The Great Mouthpiece; Denver Publishers Bonfils and Tammen in Timber Line) were bestsellers. Fowler writes of "the good old days" (a phrase that seems to mean the '205 now) sometimes as if he had a fistful of firecrackers, sometimes as if his pen had a tear duct. But the material (much of it new) lends itself perfectly to the Fowler flair for the sympathetically lusty tale...
Tempest in a Pot. As mayor, Walker soon reduced his onerous new job to an easygoing system. "Walker would rise about 10 o'clock and glance at the headlines," writes Fowler. "After three or four minutes with the big type, Walker . . . would . . . retire again . . . With pillows propped behind his back, he would make telephone calls, and . . . re-examine the newspaper headlines." Around noon he would dress and go out. He got a lot of mail, but, says Fowler, ,he "seldom read any of the thousands of letters sent to him over the years . . . seldom replied to those...