Word: knowed
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Correspondents Murray Gart and Wilbur Jarvis set to work, telephoning town after town in New England, searching for the elusive Goldfine (neither his home nor his office admitted to his whereabouts). Once they found a man named Goldfine, but it was Bernard's son Horace. He did not know where his father was, either. That evening TIME-LIFE Correspondent Ken Froslid spotted Mrs. Goldfine in the Boston garment district, trailed her on a hurried ride to Pieroni's Restaurant in Park Square. Froslid notified Gart, who telephoned Jarvis, who hotfooted it to the restaurant. Meanwhile, Gart phoned Horace...
...Does this indicate a departure from the Administration's previous attitude toward freeloading by high officials?" Hagerty: "I don't know what you mean by that . . . This is a personal friend, if that's what you're talking about." Reporter: "It's all right for a personal friend?" Hagerty: "I stick with the letter that the Governor issued. The facts as they...
...Swim. Eccentric Bernard Goldfine gets up late, drives around Boston in one of his two chauffeured black Cadillacs and constantly calls on the radiotelephone to the loyal women workers at his garment-district office with the false alarm that he will be there any minute. They know better, do not expect him until 6 p.m. when he usually begins the day's work, winding up with his office callers about midnight. No cheapskate, he hands out $50,000 a year to charities, spends untold thousands on legal advice...
When Lee Ward departed in a chill, amiable Chris Finkbeiner took the courthouse steps, wrinkled his brow, thrust hands deep in his pockets and began: "You know, this is my first talk in a county square, and I brought my wife and family to watch over me while I give this first courthouse-square speech here in Warren. I want to be Governor and I'm willing to work at it. Now folks, Mama got kinda excited and she lost one of her gloves. Any of you find it, why I'd appreciate it kindly...
...have written more feelingly than James of how one falls in love with a place. Writing again of Venice, his favorite city, James rose above the snobbery of things old or new to capture the wonder of all moving travel experiences: "[Venice] varies like a nervous woman, whom you know only when you know all the aspects of her beauty. She has high spirits or low, she is pale or red, grey or pink, cold or warm, fresh or wan, according to the weather or the hour . . . The place seems to personify itself, to become human and sentient and conscious...