Word: grasps
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Somehow the incantation began to work. "Hi, Pat," came a workman's voice. Hands reached out to grasp Pat's. "Morning, Patrick," came a greeting. Then another and another: "Good luck, Pat" and "Give 'em hell, Pat." Pat Brown grinned happily, pumped hands with a proficiency that would make Estes Kefauver seem like a subway straphanger. "Hey," he cried to no one in particular. "I feel a speech coming on." Candidate Brown was in his element, doing what he knows and likes best. He was being just plain Pat, making himself liked-and running well ahead...
Remarkably, in his attempt to dictate the senatorial nomination, Harriman was licked before he began-and almost everybody knew it but Ave. His inability to grasp the political facts of life kept the convention fight raging for days in hotel corridors, suites and lobbies. The log of one of the wildest of all New York political conventions...
Less surely handled by Director Peter Glenville or either of the principals, Me and the Colonel would tip over into maudlin sociology or an embarrassing joke. But Actor Kaye, in his first completely straight role, keeps such a clear grasp of Jacobowsky's innate strength that every sly remark creeps through with the force of wisdom as well as the bite of wit. And Germany's Jürgens, curling back his lip and swirling his eyes as he exults, "I sniff battle-I'm alive again!" accomplishes the tricky task of making Actress Maurey...
...last spring when the gendarmes, looking for witnesses to an auto accident that happened outside Yvette's house, stumbled on Wayne. After questioning him, they turned him over to U.S. Army authorities in Verdun. Like a waking child, Wayne rediscovered a harsh world which he could no longer grasp. After 14 years with Yvette, he spoke French with a marked Norman accent. He barely understood English; even the G.I. uniform that was given him seemed unfamiliar...
Reining up for a border baggage check down Mexico way, bouncy Song-and-Dance Man Sammy Davis Jr. stood briefly in the law's firm grasp. Collared by U.S. Customs agents, Sammy was frisked to his skivvies, found toting a .22-cal. pistol. Explained he: "I'm an honorary deputy sheriff of Los Angeles County." Unimpressed by the quaint mores of the county, which allows its more than 1500 honorary deputy lawmen-many of them Hollywood types who couldn't outdraw their great-aunts-to bear arms at will, the agents turned Sheriff Sam over to local...