Word: letters
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Your come-back to A. C. Whitaker's letter (TIME, Dec. 4) "Saliva is saliva, distilled or not-ED." is the most inept and unsnappy that I can recall. In fact I might say it was positively dumb. What Mr. Whitaker tried to tell you in a nice way was that the moisture that accumulates in musicians' wind instruments was not spit but actual water, and he was right...
...want to jeopardize his fine relations with the American Newspaper Guild. They heard talk of an NLRB "goon squad," of the Board having relations with a union of its own employes, which it forbade industry, office delays, annoyances, talebearing, favoritism. They heard read into the record a letter from the Cincinnati regional director to Mr. Witt, telling how a friendly city editor had killed a story unfavorable to the Board...
...devoted Emily Post of the O'Haras. And Vivien Leigh had not petted and pouted on the screen for five minutes before the fussy Atlanta audience was ready to underwrite Selznick's choice of the little-known English actress to be the Southern belle. Whether she spoke letter-perfect middle high Georgian, few people outside middle...
This embarrassing letter, in 1897, gave pause to the editors of the staid New York Sun. But not for long. Next day. in an editorial written by Editor Francis Pharcellus Church, the Sim answered in a fearless affirmative. "Not believe in Santa Claus!" it blustered, "You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there...
...Vagabond hasn't written to you for a long time. Say, 12 OR 13 Years. Of this he is acutely aware right now. Once there was a day when Vag wrote a letter to you each Christmas. This letter was inevitably the only nit of writing he did outside of school. Somehow, it never seemed a hardship--as was all other writing. It was scribbled rather carefully in pencil--on the dining room table just after the supper dishes had been cleared away. About this time of year, it was, too. Annually, it must have caused Mr. Farley's postal...