Word: friend
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...sharpened with a little acid. An American official points to a Soviet officer and says to me: "That s.o.b. looked straight through me-and we used to go boating together." A British lady, laboring under the delusion that she possesses a gift for repartee, is asked by a friend why she requires such a preposterously large pin to hold a single rose in place on her ample bosom, and replies: "The better to gouge out Russian eyes, my dear! Ha ha, oh dear me!" An American lady stares across the room and says sweetly: "Look at those Russian women...
...schoolboy, demonstrated last week that he has learned to recite perfectly: "Every participant in the coming aviation parade [which was later rained out and postponed a week] will demonstrate his love and gratitude to the creator and organizer of all victories and successes of the Soviet people, the best friend of Soviet aviators, the wise, brilliant commander and generalissimo of the Soviet Union, Joseph V. Stalin...
...Russian to his stubby fingertips, and so is his music. The Communists regard him as a decadent, God-loving capitalist who writes ugly music. Stravinsky's opinion of the Communists is just as brusque: he thinks they are ruining Russian music (including that of his old friend Sergei Prokofiev). Says Stravinsky: "I hate Soviet music...
Before the gendarmes arrived, Stravinsky scrambled out a backstage window. At 2 in the morning he piled into a cab with Nijinsky, Diaghilev and his friend Jean Cocteau, and drove through the Bois de Boulogne. Cocteau remembers: "We were silent; the night was cool and clear. The odor of the acacias told us we had reached the first trees. Coming to the lakes, Diaghilev, bundled up in opossum, began mumbling in Russian . . . tears running down [his] cheeks...
Only once is there a mention in the book of the sweat that most reporters distill trying to find words to fit their big news. Charles A. Lindbergh handed a scoop and a Pulitzer prize to old friend Lauren ("Deac") Lyman of the New York Times when he sailed into exile (1935) after his baby was kidnaped. All afternoon, Lyman sweated over 13 different leads before, in desperation, he settled on a routine Times lead, such as he had written a thousand times...