Word: friendly
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...make no claim to be the legal adviser of Mr. Hoover. I have done professional work for him, but it was of no great importance. I resent the implication that I am Mr. Hoover's closest legal friend. . . . My relations with Mr. Hoover have been very pleasant. . . . I have never discussed the sugar tariff with Mr. Hoover. I have discussed the sliding scale with Mr. Newton. . . . Some people might think that what Mr. Newton said was the same as what the President said. . . . I have never received any directions from Mr. Hoover. . . . You must realize that this...
...must sell $800 worth of stamps by Jan. 1 or have his salary cut and have his office degraded to third-class. Citizens despaired; a third-class post office means no city mail delivery. In Chicago Ben Minturn, onetime Florentine schoolmate of O'Brien, read of his friend's predicament, wrote a letter, enclosed a check for $1,000, ordered $900 in 2 cent stamps, $100 in 5 cent stamps, saved the day. Shrewd Friend Minturn could, of course, exchange his stamps for cash at the nearest post office...
Washington Crash. For a pre-Christmas surprise to friends and family, three men planned a flight from Washington, D. C., to Massachusetts-Representative William Kirk Kaynor, who had never flown before, to visit his family; Stanley B. Lowe, his secretary, to get first sight of his newborn child; Arthur A. McGill, a friend, to remarry. Assistant Secretary of War Frederick Trubee Davison loaned them the trimotored Fokker which he always used himself. Pilot was Capt. Harry A. Dinger, "who had more experience in piloting trimotored transports than any other pilot in the Army Air Corps." Mechanic was Buck Private Vladimir...
Recently Sculptor Mestrovio said to a friend who was discussing U. S. art with...
...reporters playing bridge in the office late at night comes Chief of Detectives Crewe, looking for his old friend Sands, a better detective than reporter. There has been a murder, and a queer one. The dead man sits at his dining room table, lashed to his chair; breakfast has been laid for four, but nobody has touched it; everywhere is the thick stink of nicotine. The setting is melodramatic, but the action is confused, realistic: the policemen, the loudmouthed, lowbrowed coroner, the witnesses at the inquest, are photographically true to type. The satire on things political, policial, is at times...