Word: golds
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...each with 30-odd chairs, at $10 a chair) at a time when even those of us who don't know much about what goes on in the outside world have some inkling that affairs are not at their normal smoothness, and education in particular is not rolling in gold. We are warned by college presidents that if the tax payer doesn't help, private educational institutions will go down. We receive heart-rending pleas for money from conscientious people who want to help war-torn people and home-less children whose homes we have helped to destroy...
...border gate, poured panicky peasants and deserting Nationalist soldiers, clamoring for haven from the advancing Reds. Black sentries from Mozambique allowed them to pass, first stripping the deserters of weapons. By week's end, over Pak-sha-leang, a Chinese fort overlooking the single road into Macao, the gold-starred Red flag of Communist China waved ominously...
...South African government's official policy of apartheid-vaguely defined as "separateness" for 2,000,000 dominant whites and 8,000,000 subordinate blacks-reached an ultimate. In gold-mining Klerksdorp, at the request of the local Handelskamer (Chamber of Commerce), the town council agreed to provide separate hearses for the two races. It was unpleasant and unhealthy to contemplate, explained Councilman D. J. Piennar, that a hearse bearing a black corpse to the cemetery might next day be used to carry a white man's coffin...
Ernie Byfield, Chicago hotelman and nightclub impresario (the Pump Room, the College Inn), reached 60, took a dim view of the bistro business: "Nightclubs are like gold mines. For every ten bucks you put in, one buck is extracted . . . Old nightclubs and old streetwalkers are the same. The older they get, the less money they take...
...night last week, an audience that overflowed into every inch of standing-room space in Manhattan's Metropolitan Opera House listened breathlessly as the great gold curtain closed to the last romantic bars of Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty. As the footlights went up and the curtain parted again, a roar of applause rose to the Met's gilded ceiling. Time after time, panting dancers took their bows, then skipped gracefully out of view. When at last a slender and dark-haired little ballerina appeared alone, the audience rose to its feet and cheered...