Word: punchings
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Foaled on the Kentucky farm of A. B. ("Bull'') Hancock, Round Table was running as a three-year-old in 1957 when he caught the fancy of his present owner. A younger brother of Oklahoma's Senator Robert Kerr, with the same family paunch and financial punch (oil, uranium), Travis Kerr, 56, suspected that Round Table might become the great horse he needed for the mildly successful stable he started in 1949. When Hancock asked for $175,000, Kerr sent Veterinarian John Peters and Trainer Molter to Hialeah, where Round Table was running...
Cards of Identity. Author Cheever's plots carry his punch in the way that cotton carries chloroform. His stories are saturated with the sights and sounds of suburban life. His characters show the identity cards of the hard-pressed middle class: unpaid bills, buttonless shirts, little scraps of paper that read, "oleomargarine, frozen spinach, Kleenex, dog biscuit . . ." They believe they are "outside the realm of God's infinite mercy," and yet their prayer is heartfelt: "Preserve me from word games and adulterers, from basset hounds and swimming pools and frozen canapes and Bloody Marys...
...Pressagents gave a mighty buildup to Heavyweight Challenger Roy Harris, 25, of Cut and Shoot. Texas, but they forgot to give him a mighty punch. Half with a right and half with a shove, Harris put Champion Floyd Patterson, 23, on the canvas for a four-count in the second, the only round he won. But the expressionless champ did not even blink, came back to floor Harris four times, open up a mass of cuts that required 14 stitches to close. After twelve rounds the challenger was a bloody hulk, could go no farther. Referee Mushy Callahan took...
...comedy that critics called "pleasant" for want of anything worse to say about it. But transferred to the screen and run through a high-speed Mixmaster of comic invention by Rex Harrison and Wife Kay (Les Girls) Kendall, this lukewarm cup of tea has been turned into cheery summer punch...
...Novelist Powell writes about British upper-class tribal customs with the air of a man who knows that if an outsider wants an explanation, he is not worth explaining to. He lives in a Regency house near Frome in the county of Somerset, 100 miles from his office at Punch, that venerable and sometimes humorous magazine, where he functions as a slyly discursive book reviewer. "We [the British] are a very peculiar, very odd people," says Powell, looking down at his subject matter in the manner of the legendary clubman who liked to sit in the window of the Carlton...