Word: mottoes
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Pinkerton's National Detective Agency, the firm that made "private eye" a popular phrase, finally went public last week. Under fourth-generation President Robert A. Pinkerton II, the family-owned firm, which has used "We Never Sleep" as a motto and an unblinking eye as its trademark while running up a record for running down all sorts of criminals, is now a quarry itself-for investors. Pegged at $23 a share when it went on sale, $6,900,000 worth of Pinkerton stock soon sold...
...holds forth six nights a week from 6 p.m. until 1 a.m., earns $20,000 a year. He cannot abide sing-along customers, discourages them by "changing keys so often that they become confused." - Ernie Swann, at Detroit's Salamandre room, prides himself on living up to the motto "You're a Stranger Here Once." Between gulps of Liebfraumilch, he listens sympathetically to the troubles of the drinkers who huddle around his piano bar, treats each individually with an appropriate number drawn from a repertory of 2,000 songs. "I've always had a feeling...
...been the object of almost constant investigations and allegations by the Federal Government. Six times he was brought to trial but only twice convicted. Hoffa took modest refuge in an ancient businessman's gag: he festooned his desk with a bronze plaque inscribed with the dog-Latin motto: Illegitimi Non Carborundum (Don't let the bastards wear you down...
After war, Fairbank returned to Harvard to gather together a few ex-G.I.'s from the Pacific theater as students and make the small beginning in Asian regional studies. "Our motto was 'Quo Vadis,' Benjamin Schwartz, now professor of History and Government one of the ex-G.I.'s, says, "It was a risky venture. Before World War II the study of China was considered a risky enterprise. His (Fairbank's) hope at that time was that most of us would go into government." But instead they spread out to other universities, in fifteen years populating most...
Happily, he got his armorial bearings in Brest (and a motto to match: "Love, Work, Suffer"), though he made no headway in claiming the barony that is said to go with the name. It is fortunate, too, for the reader, that Kerouac lost his own bearings so often: amusingly drunken cafe brawls, busted suitcases tied up with neckties, lost planes, overcharging tarts and mercenary French petite bourgeoisie. Kerouac is an engaging fellow. Brave, too. At one point, he undertook to explain to goggle-eyed Parisians that he speaks purer French than they, because "I roll...