Word: parks
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Robinson's nephew William Park took over ASCO's presidency last spring when the tax fight was growing hot. He went to Philadelphia from a Michigan farm, started to work for his uncle at 20. He has been working in the same spot ever since, and though the building has changed the atmosphere has not. ASCO's general offices are as cluttered as a warehouse. President Park works in shirt sleeves behind a partition, washes his hands like the rest of the staff at an open sink in the corner. Pay telephones are provided for visitors. Placards...
...redhaired, earnest, optimistic, so retiring that no newspaper has ever published a picture of him, President Park lives simply in suburban Haverford, two miles from his archenemy, George Earle. He is a pillar in the National Association of Food Chains, which has been creating an astonishing reserve of good will for its members by organizing selling drives to relieve farm surpluses. Last year it started off with a nation-wide campaign in canned peaches, cleaned up the glut in short order. When last year's Drought flooded the market with cattle that could no longer be fed, the chains...
...kept an eye peeled for big money. He went into partnership with Robert Lee Blaffer and out of their small beginnings grew Humble Oil Co., the mighty company which Standard now controls. Mr. Parish's official residence is still Houston, though he lives most of the time on Park Avenue, Manhattan. He likes to shoot quail in Thomasville, Ga., where he owns a big preserve jointly with Mr. Teagle.' A powerful six-footer with a Texas drawl, Oilman Farish was made a Standard director in 1927, chairman...
...Park Square the early June drizzle has become a light rain and the steady pattering of the drops distorts the reflected lights on the asphalt pavement. It is show time; people scurry and jabber of Clark Gable, Myrna Loy, and perfectly marvelous seats for "Candida...
...ablaze with marquees as the Vagabond weaves his way. In deadly peril his eyes blink and head ducks from sharp, swarming umbrellas. Ticket sellers, polished bars, and even the warped old lady vending gardenias are busy in the rain. Doors of movie palaces swing forever, and before the Park Theatre, flaunting its usual lascivious attraction, stand two sailor boys counting their coins...