Word: greenes
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...that instant, a green Rambler also bound for Beirut rounded the turn. In it. were Fayet Esrouer and his pregnant wife, their five-year-old daughter and three relatives. The father was rushing his wife from Beit Méri to a hospital in Beirut, to give birth to her fifth child. Hearing the honking ministerial caravan and the siren of its motorcycle escort, Esrouer excitedly decided to pass the disabled Ford before pulling over to let the motorcade pass him. On the hilltop the confused assassin reached for the plunger a trifle too soon...
With a surprised "Oh, no," and a lusty "Gosh awful," Patriarchitect Frank Lloyd Wright, 89, summering at his home and workshop in Spring Green, Wis., recoiled from photos of a ten-story addition to Tokyo's Wright-designed Imperial Hotel, said the annex' streamlined "International Style" was "neither international nor style." The labyrinthine Imperial, completed in 1922, had withstood the great 1923 Kwanto earthquake, while much of Tokyo fell to rubble. World War II's firebombings did not destroy it. But now, according to Wright, "Westernization" had effected what war and seism could not; there...
...roaring forties off the Cape of Good Hope when she shipped a monstrous sea over the lee rail. Tailing onto the heavy rope of the main brace was a runty, down-cheeked lad of 16 named Jimmy Bisset. His feet swept from under him by the surge of boiling green water, he was washed overboard. His shouts were drowned in the roar of wind and sea. But he held onto the rope's end. And the next sea washed him back aboard. As Jimmy clutched the fife rail and spat out the brine, the first mate roared: "The next...
...have always hesitated to recommend this old-fashioned remedy to passengers in luxury liners." Another old remedy was devised for Bisset's dysentery. The captain's remedies were numbered, and No. 15 was for dysentery. But the captain ran out of it. So he gave the green-faced Jimmy an arithmetically compounded dollop of No. 5 and No. 10. It worked...
CHEZ PA VAN, by Richard Llewellyn (527 pp.; Doubleday; $4.95), is one of those literary stews that have a savory aroma when served at the table. The scandalous secrets of a snobbish Parisian hotel promise more than enough meat for a pungent bestseller. But Bestselling Author (How Green Was My Valley) Llewellyn, though he studied in hotel schools, blends his ingredients with the heavy hand of a short-order fry cook...