Word: lawn
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...shaking hands, passing out cards, grinning, talking country talk, was Candidate Chris Finkbeiner, 37, heavy-set meat packer from Little Rock, whose public-speaking experience comes chiefly from delivering his own hot-dog commercials on TV; Chris flew into town in his own plane. Then, down to the courthouse lawn fluttered a red, white and blue helicopter, and out stepped Candidate Lee Ward, 51, chancery court judge from Paragould...
STRANGERS WHEN WE MEET, by Evan Hunter (375 pp.; Simon & Schuster; $4.50). Nature is easily kept in check by powered lawn mowers in suburban Pinecrest Manor, an hour from Broadway, but human nature creates a thick underbrush of sin and suffering. With the dull Cape Cods, the boring neighbors, the endless trivia of gossip, there is not much to turn to for excitement. Architect Larry Cole, who loves his wife and two youngsters after eight years of faultless married life, turns to Margaret Gault, a beautiful blonde whose husband spends a lot of time in an aircraft factory...
Work in Motion. At work in the White House until 9:45 one morning, he walked down the South Lawn to a quivering olive-drab giant, Army H34 Helicopter No. 64316, that needed only 34 minutes to set him down 80 miles away beside his home-town polling booth in Barlow Fire Hall, near Gettysburg. He tore the identifying #35 off the corner of his Pennsylvania primary ballot and boarded his bird again, whisking off to Harrisburg...
...French Realist Gustave Courbet's Château Bleu six months after graduating from Yale. Prosperous from his family yarn business, he has steadily bought works by 20th century French, German and American artists. His house in suburban Greenwich, Conn, is filled to the bathroom walls, and the lawn has a skyward-staring, 5½-ft. bronze, The Manipulator, by British Sculptor-Welder Reg Butler. Still sticking to his father's advice, "Never look for a bargain," Bareiss buys "only what I like...
...climax of sorts builds when Mrs. Halloran, feeling pretty good on the day before the scheduled holocaust, puts on a tiara ("My crown!") and throws a farewell bacchanal all over the lawn for the poor villagers. Fools, they don't know any better and go ahead and have a good time though not as good a time as Mrs. Halloran. What happens next day I had better not tell...