Word: palmed
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...Great Centuries of Painting, Ike exclaimed: "For goodness sakes. Wonderful-this is wonderful." As the President's third year began, he faced a heavy winter schedule of work and a lighter schedule of relaxation than he would like. A friend who has business interests in Palm Springs, Calif., where Ike spent a winter vacation last year, dropped in with a bit of advice: don't go to Palm Springs this year. The friend's reasoning: too many U.S. citizens are disturbed about the President's being away from the White House so much; going...
...meet the insistence of the White House physician, Dr. Howard Snyder, that he continue to get plenty of air and exercise, he will probably use closer retreats than Palm Springs. Preparations are being pushed at the Eisenhower farm at Gettysburg to make it ready for weekending...
Jawaharlal Nehru stood upright in his open black Cadillac as it rolled beneath triumphal arches through the villages and towns of southeast India. "WELCOME, JEWEL OF ASIA," the customary placards proclaimed as he journeyed, garlanded, along paths strewn with palm leaves. Yet despite the familiar scenes of adulation, he seemed distant, tired, and ineffectual. Speaking from a platform 15 feet above the crowds of illiterate peasants, he projected his own confusion. He is against "the Communists," but not against "Communism." He does not approve of Communist "methods," but as for Communist objectives, "I like them." "Does Nehru Sahib wish...
Every reader of Somerset Maugham's The Moon and Sixpence knows who Eugène-Henri-Paul Gauguin was: the middle-aged Paris stockbroker who callously turned his back on business and family, fled to Tahiti and became a great painter amid the palm trees and dusky native maids. Devoted Gauguinists have damned the Maugham novel (in which the thinly disguised Gauguin is actually an Englishman named Charles Strickland) as six-pennyworth of moonshine. But they have never managed to scotch it. They never will, because the tale is essentially true...
...captain neither agreed nor resisted when Scotland Yard men took Eisler off the Batory at Southampton. For this, when he docked at Gdynia, Cwiklinski sat through a palm-sweating grilling with his bosses and the dreaded U.B. (for Urzad Bezpieczenstwa), Poland's secret police.* On the return trip to New York, the Batory's crew and passengers were in turn grilled by U.S. Government agents, and the eventual loss of pier privileges forced the Poles to give up the transatlantic run. No Communist or proCommunist, Cwiklinski tried to coexist with the Polish satellite regime for the sake...