Word: midnight
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Desperate Hours. Since the landings, Admiral Holloway's diplomatic-military talents have been kept minute-to-minute busy, put to many a test. He gets up aboard his electronics-crammed command ship Taconic about 6 a.m., keeps on the move until past midnight, has found spare time only to write four letters to London to his second wife-last January he married Josephine Kenney, the widow of a naval officer who had served with him in BuPers-and to drop down from admiral's country to see an occasional shipboard movie. Title of one movie: The Desperate Hours...
Died. Franklin Pangborn, 60-odd, longtime cinemactor-comedian, stage and TV performer, who played foil to W.C. Fields in The Bank Dick and Never Give a Sucker an Even Break, to Jack Benny in The Horn Blows at Midnight and George Washington Slept Here; after an operation; in Santa Monica, Calif...
...reporter for the I.N.S.," who set up shop in a three-room Sheraton-Carlton press headquarters. The headquarters featured free whisky and "Press Receptionist" Bea Duprey, a toothsome Boston model who seemed mostly interested in making sure reporters got her measurements right (35-22-35). In a ridiculous midnight affair, Lotto & Co. soon caught a couple of snoopers listening in with a microphone and a tape recorder from the room next door...
Morris was vaguely disturbed by all this brooding on craft. He was disturbed by the intellectual exercises of imitating ancient forms, by the thrice-weekly traipses through the scholastic limbo of image-source and word derivation. Of course, Morris was an egotist, and he awoke occasionally at midnight with the ugly thought: "What if I'm being disciplined out of existence...
...there remained only the rumors. Some said she plunged into the river and drifted toward Martha's Vineyard; others that she was cut down in a frisbee cross-fire and buried at the Business School. A few are known to whisper of a midnight motorcycle kidnap and a shotgun wedding over two steins at Nick's (that's South of here). But Portia Parsley is now a legend, murmured at midnight over English muffins in the Bick, and remembered sometimes at a Yard punch. She never returned to North Dakota...