Word: masseurs
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...German trade treaty of 1925. Specifically, in the case of an obscure German who has been trying for months to wangle a renewal of his masseur's license out of Commissioner of Licenses Paul Moss. pugnacious Fiorello LaGuardia snarled: "Wherever anyone is depending on this Treaty to get a license he won't get it! ... The issue is: should we extend privileges to German citizens here when similar privileges are denied to American citizens in Germany? . . . This is a great big thing. This is a broad interpretation of treaty rights . . . worth fighting...
...fake but the museum prospers. Presently Barnum has a bigger one where General Tom Thumb does a minuet with his tiny wife. Bailey Walsh goes to purchase Jumbo from the London Zoo. When he returns with Jenny Lind (Virginia Bruce) instead, Barnum's troubles start. A Swedish masseur teaches him a toast. When he uses it at a banquet, Jenny Lind thinks he is trying to insult her. She scuttles back to Sweden, the neglected museum goes bankrupt, and Barnum is forlornly slouching on a park bench when his old friend General Thumb discovers...
...young golfer, with a job at the Waterloo Club at Brussels, Cotton plays without the characteristic nervous waggle of his British confreres, drives a red Mercedes roadster, is reputed to be the best dressed professional golfer in Europe. He brought with him to Sandwich last week his private trainer & masseur. On the third round Cotton got a creditable 72. On the fourth he blew up completely with a 79, but by that time he was so far ahead it made no difference. His 283 tied Gene Sarazen's record Open total...
...floor of the Indoor Athletic Building because they are under the impression that n additional fee is charged for services, on an average of 12 athletes take advantage of its facilities every day and have their kinks rubbed and steamed out, under the vigorous pummeling of S. R. Gerard, masseur...
...boar charged the comedian. When they were 100 ft. apart, someone else in the party brought the beast down with a rifle-bullet. That night Mr. Chaplin ate boar, declaring he liked it better on the platter than on the hoof. Next day, after several sessions with a masseur to ease limbs strained by his perilous riding, he cancelled a trip to the Grand National Steeplechase (see p. 24). Said he: "I feel that the mere sight of horses going over the jumps would hurt every bone in my body." Also last week, in Paris, France's "Chariot" was decorated...