Word: pale
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...neat, somberly clad man who had opened the world's case against the Nazi war criminals was still pale and nervous as he prepared to close it last week. U.S. Chief Prosecutor Robert Houghwout Jackson knew that not merely the courtroom's obedient microphones but also the ears of history were listening to his words. Jackson tried to show that the trial's 'mad and melancholy" mass of evidence, which the U.S. prosecution had helped compile with masterly precision, was not, as the defense had claimed, merely a disconnected series of misfortunes. Said Jackson: "Each part...
...After reading your "rave" notice on The Pale Horseman [TIME, June 3], I lost no time in booking it to show yesterday at our local Rotary and at our church. The weekly papers cooperated magnificently in giving publicity. . . . No admission was charged; no offering solicited...
After a Russian supper of vodka, cherry brandy, sausages, fried potatoes, more vodka and endless cherry brandy bottoms-up, eight U.S. reporters and their three escorting Russian officers went out walking in Halle. Its streets were lit by a pale moon, traced by the grotesque shadows of bombed buildings. They had not gone a block before the first Germans joined them. By the second block there were 50. By the third every American was walking separately, surrounded by a milling group of Germans, pushing and shoving to say a few words into the correspondents' ears...
...always more comfortable and pleasant than the Russian Military Government offices. Officers salute, click their heels, proffer cigarets and act toward the Germans with a grave courtesy that many an American officer has not yet learned. In Weimar the reporters went down to the National Theater and found a pale, 26-year-old youth sitting in Goethe's chair. Hans Viehweg became a Socialist after the war, but switched quickly to Communism. Thereafter, his rise was rapid. He served briefly as head of the local radio station, then became head of all Thuringian theaters...
...Some months later he repacked his bags, stole out of his Washington boardinghouse. Now he all but calls for a world crusade against "the political regime into which I poured a lifetime of toil and faith." He lives secretly, ducks photographers. Intense, pale-faced, he nervously fiddles with his neat black tie, dismisses unfavorable reviews of his book as the work of charlatans or Communist henchmen...