Word: quails
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...from the Boiling Pot. While all these potential rewards and troubles boiled furiously, Bob Young spent most of last week in the piny woods of northern Florida, expertly banging away at quail. He was the guest of Mrs. George F. Baker Jr. on her 13,000-acre Horseshoe Plantation. The Baker family has been associated with the House of Morgan for several decades, but Young is often the best of social friends with his business enemies. His hunting companions at the Baker estate were the Duke & Duchess of Windsor, with whom Young and his wife are on first-name terms...
...quail and Florida were not Bob Young's whole concern last week. As usual, he kept in daily communication with his New York office by telephone. Says he: "If I didn't keep my guard up all the time, those goddamned bankers would scalp me in a minute." (His habit of pronouncing "goddamned bankers" as if it were one word is so familiar to his banking friends that they no longer feel sworn...
What comes out of Lester Young's saxophone sounds to some people like a snow shovel being dragged along a bare sidewalk. Peewee Russell's distinctive improvisations have been compared to those of a dying quail. But neither simile is apropos in the case of Bud Freeman. His playing is not as raucous as Young's nor as feeble as Russell's. It is subdued, vibratoed, and a little raspy like the sound of an electric shaver after it has been dropped a couple of times...
...stronger . . . no more adaptable or beautiful. . . . Arguments about the decline of the individual ... I do not take too seriously. . . . When I see some boys cruising in their patched-up jalopy, they seem just as much in harmony with their world as any . . . young savage creeping up on a quail with his throwing-stick...
Congress had provided the legislation (the "G.I. Bill of Rights"), and Harry Truman had provided the man. It was one of the President's best appointments: General Omar N. Bradley, the "Doughboys' General." He had not wanted the job; he had wanted to rest and shoot quail. But he walked into the old grey Veterans Administration Building in Washington, said modestly, "My name's Bradley," and sat down...