Word: pale
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Senate side, Robert Taft had run into opposition. New York's G.O.P. freshman Senator Irving Ives, commanding a majority coalition of Republicans and Democrats on Taft's labor committee, had managed to water down Taft's working draft until it was only a pale version of what Taft wanted. For Taft it was one of the worst lickings he had ever taken. In a fury, he prepared to carry the fight to the Senate floor, there try to put back everything that Ives & friends had taken out. There would be high, hot winds in the Senate soon...
Down Potsdam's slushy Berlinerstrasse stumbled twelve haggard men. Halfheartedly they tried to avoid the largest puddles. Their faces had the pale, creased look of prisoners. Behind them trudged a stubby, broad-faced Russian soldier, Tommy gun crooked in his right arm, the wide Ukrainian steppe in his blue eyes...
...Mayflower Hotel's gilt-trimmed ballroom, the cheers and applause were unrestrained. There were even a few joyous rebel yells as Harry Truman appeared in the doorway, flanked by Mrs. Truman (in green) and Daughter Margaret (in pale blue). Harry Truman grinned and waved happily to the 2,000-odd Jefferson Day diners.* He could well remember the dismal days last fall, when all that Democrat bigwigs wanted of him was to keep out of sight...
...board of RKO, resigned the ambassadorship to the Russian-dominated government of Yugoslavia, where he had been as frustrated as Lane was in Poland. Private interests required his attention, said Patterson. As his successor, Harry Truman picked a State Department careerist: 52-year-old Cavendish Welles Cannon, whose large, pale, triangular face has been appearing in the trouble spots of southern Europe for 20 years, most recently in Lisbon, where he was First Secretary and Consul...
...women sat quietly all day, all night; old women made gross by lives of toil, pale young women with high heels and disordered hair. They stared. Sometimes, with vague and automatic obedience, they drank coffee or ate sandwiches which were offered them. Sometimes a woman would unlock the padlocked chain on which her dead husband's street clothes had been hoisted to the washroom ceiling. She would take the clothes down, fold them, and leave. But the room stayed quiet-so quiet at times that the distant tolling of church bells, the twitter of sparrows in the rafters, could...