Word: palmed
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Come Christmas, Jack and Jackie Kennedy plan to spend their holiday in a white Palm Beach mansion on loan from old family friends: C. (for Capton) Michael Paul, 59, and his wife Josephine, 60. The home is a showpiece, with eight bedrooms, nine servants' rooms, a loggia filled with tropical greenery, a 72-ft. heated swimming pool, an ocean-view terrace and 400 ft. of beach. Its owners are every bit as remarkable: between them, the Pauls own major stock interests in a big brokerage house, oil wells and real estate. They are philanthropists on a noble scale...
This is a dead city, a battlefield where vultures circle overhead and the smell of panic is stronger than the stench of the unswept, palm-fringed boulevards. The shops are barred, the restaurants deserted. Hour after hour, day and night, the tomblike hush is broken only by the distant crump of exploding mortar shells, the whoom of bazookas, the crack of anti-aircraft cannon, and the short, chattering bursts of machine guns...
Stocky and quick-smiling, Macapagal (pronounced Mock-a-pa-gahl) was born 51 years ago in a palm-frond hut in rice-growing Pampanga province, north of Manila. His first name means "God-given" in Spanish. His mother was a devout Roman Catholic who taught catechism to schoolchildren, and his father wrote poetry in the local dialect. Since poets do no better financially in the Philippines than anywhere else, Diosdado Macapagal's family was often hungry...
...began as just another week of heat and torpor in the Congo. Sweating natives, as usual, loaded palm kernels into boats at upcountry river stations, while understaffed United Nations teams passed out powdered milk to babies and urged the villagers to expand their scraggly little farm plots. In Leopoldville, things seemed normal enough: harassed Premier Cyrille Adoula, struggling to hold his limping central government together, still pondered ways to whip Katanga's Secessionist Moise Tshombe into line, and noted nervously that Eastern Province's Antoine Gizenga talked of breaking away again to win autonomy for his own ragtag...
After a publicity-winning preview sale to her perennial Palm Beach hostess, Rose Kennedy, chic Helene Arpels, fiftyish, a regular titlist in the world's ten-best-dressed-women stakes, opened to the public a gemlike boutique in Manhattan's St. Regis Hotel. Located just two blocks from where her estranged husband, Louis Arpels of Van Cleef & Arpels, traffics in tiaras, the new establishment stocks such exotica as 17th century quill pens with ballpoint nibs ($13.45) and square-toed velvet bedroom slippers for men ($24). Cooed Mme. Arpels, gesturing at the merchandise with a ring-finger diamond that...