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...When Trevor Howard informs him that the island has a hidden treasure-trove of good Scotch whisky, Grant starts pawing the turf like Pavlov's dog. His engaging brand of rough-house finally proves a point that was never seriously in doubt in the first place. Scrub the style and polish off Cary Grant, and what do you find? The real polish underneath...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: Smooth Sailor | 12/18/1964 | See Source »

There is never so much color and laughter in the building as on opening nights. The editors, who are loquacious enough when the newsroom is their own, seem wan, unshaven, even vaguely underdressed, as if they had forgotten to scrub for their own party...

Author: By Jacob R. Brackman, | Title: Editors and Theatre People | 12/5/1964 | See Source »

...Swim." Bauer never went back to Oshkosh. One day in January 1942, he stopped by the local court house and enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps. Boot camp was a breeze ("I never had to scrub a barracks with a toothbrush or anything"), and there was even a baseball team at Mare Island, Calif., where Hank was awaiting shipment to the Pacific. But the easy life came to an abrupt halt. "One morning," says Hank, "this sergeant came up to me and said, 'Why don't you volunteer for the Raider battalion?' I said okay...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Baseball: Old Potato Face | 9/11/1964 | See Source »

...nearly 100°, and hardly a breeze stirred the mimosa trees and scrub pines that dotted the landscape near the charred church ruins. There was not much to see at the burned church site-a twisted tin roof and a blackened iron bell in the ashes. The three drove a mile down the road to the farmhouse of Junior Roosevelt Cole, 58, a Negro and lay leader of the church, who told them that on the night of the fire he was dragged from his car in the churchyard and clubbed unconscious by a mob of whites. Schwerner asked Cole...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Civil Rights: The Grim Roster | 7/3/1964 | See Source »

Last week the bloody back-and-forth took on a new dimension. Down from the scrub-grown hills of India's mineral-rich Bihar state swarmed hordes of fierce Adivasis (literally, aborigines) armed with bows and arrows. Recent converts to Christianity, but not weaned from their fierce ways, they had been enraged by reports of anti-Christian persecution across the border. Before they returned home, they had burned two Moslem villages, left rows of charred corpses bristling with arrow shafts...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: India: The Feeling Is Fatal | 4/3/1964 | See Source »

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