Word: mellowing
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Family Voyage. All across the Atlantic the weather was on the side of Britannia. The smooth sea was just what Captain Illingworth ordered. Most of the nights were lit by a theatrically mellow moon. But as the shoreline died away, the passengers had little to look at but themselves. The few inveterate voyagers among them recognized that nothing about the Queen Mary had changed quite so much as her passengers. The prewar glitter of the salon list was dimmed. Gone were the orchids and the ermine. Few British escapists, yearning after the fleshpots of Manhattan night life, rubbed magnificent elbows...
...farmer than a Pulitzer-Prize-winning editor of the Des Moines Register. The scientist was Robert Fox Bacher, 41, cool, deliberate, diplomatic, the head of nuclear research at Cornell University and one of the scientists who assembled, the first atomic bomb. The banker was Lewis Lichtenstein Strauss, 51, a mellow, courtly, impeccably dressed philanthropist, partner in New York's Kuhn, Loeb & Co. The industrialist was tall, rangy Sumner Pike, 55, a bachelor and adventurous industrialist with a shrewd, twangy Yankee humor...
Winston Churchill does not mellow with age; he gets more richly crusty. His brilliantly feathered shafts find a favorite target in able but colorless Clement Attlee, whom Churchill once described as a nice, modest little man "who had a good deal to be modest about." Last week the New Statesman and Nation reported that, after Attlee had ably replied to some Churchill needling in the House of Commons, Churchill had remarked: "Feed a grub on royal jelly, and it may turn out to be a queen...
...Yanks Are Coming! In other articles, Werth elaborated the mellow motif: "There are today perceptible signs of a desire for rapprochement with Britain. . . . The phrase 'the Anglo-Americans' is no longer favored. ... An ignorant old wife will tell you she knows for certain that Hitler is in America plotting. . . . In comparison, Britain is quite harmless...
...beamed a troubled glance on Old Jawn. Well that was all right--he was still unbowed in his solitary splendor. At least we have our tradition, Vag thought, but now, Fair Harvard, when thy sons to thy jubilee throng, the masculine spirit of year will be somewhat diluted. Those mellow occasions when the alumni used to contemplate "the good times we had with Copey" would have a strange air about them now when they realized there were others (he straightened his tie) who shared the same memories. Was that fair? There would be no more classes in that cherished...